


Blood Is

by nicKnack22



Series: Nested [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bittersweet, Cas and Dean are Emma's parents, Dad!Dean, Daddy Issues, Dean saves Emma, Emma Winchester - Freeform, Family, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Sibling Bonding, Siblings, dad!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 21:33:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7908370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicKnack22/pseuds/nicKnack22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma has a brother</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Is

**Author's Note:**

> For futurecatladies who requested: Emma meets Ben, both of whom are Dean’s biokids (canonverse)  
> Originally on tumblr: http://musingsdeme.tumblr.com/post/138456875265/for-futurecatladies-who-requested-emma-meets

She knows something is wrong when Dean freezes. Dean never freezes, not on hunts, not in crowds, not when he caught her making out with Jessica Richards on the bleachers, never. So, when Dean comes to a total stop with no warning in the middle of the grocery store, Emma immediately goes on high alert. 

She can hear his heart rate rise, practically taste his fight or flight response in the air, she has to bite back her instinctual need to jump between him and danger, focus on her own breathing to keep her fangs from coming out, her eyes from glowing. She hasn’t heard anything strange, the only blood she can smell is coming from the butcher’s, there doesn’t seem to be any danger in their vicinity. 

When Dean remains immobile, she follows the line of his gaze to the end of the aisle. There are no visible threats; just a boy, maybe sixteen or so. He’s tall, dark haired, and broad shouldered, but definitely human. Emma frowns at Dean, and then back at the boy. 

She steals herself and tugs at the sleeve of Dean’s jacket.

He jumps and shakes himself. He pastes a smile on his face, but his eyes are too bright, his jaw too tight, and his heart is tripping double time in his rib cage. Emma can hear the frantic thump. 

He doesn’t give her the chance to ask if he’s okay.

“You wanna grab the Captain Crunch and I’ll meet you up front?”

He doesn’t wait for her answer, just turns the cart around and wheels away like something is chasing him. 

Emma watches Dean leave, and then glances back at the boy. He’s turning the far corner with a box of Captain Crunch in hand. Emma grabs her own box before she follows Dean to the register

*

Dean doesn’t mention the boy while they drive home or unpack the groceries, he talks about other things, meaningless things, while they cook dinner together. Emma plays along but she watches him closely. He froze. Dean never freezes. Even now, it’s like he’s frozen. Tension and stiffness in every muscle. She mulls it over, twirls a knife between her fingers while she thinks, if she threw this knife at him right now he wouldn’t catch it, and that worries her. Emma isn’t sure she’s ever seen him like this, not since she was young, in the days and weeks after he took her in. He’d saved her life in more ways than one, but he didn’t seem to know what to do with her, he seemed afraid of her. 

When Cas gets home, Dean relaxes just slightly, but Emma notices that he leans into Cas more heavily than usual, lingers in their embrace longer. Cas catches her gaze and Emma tries to communicate with her eyes that something is wrong. Cas frowns, so Emma knows that he got the message. 

Sam calls halfway through dinner, and Dean takes the call to the other room, leaving Emma and Cas alone at the table. 

“Does Dean know a boy?”

Cas frowns, “A boy?”

She describes the encounter, Cas leans forward, putting pieces together, puzzling through.

“—he was sixteen or seventeen,” she concludes, “dark hair, dark eyes, pale, tall.”

Cas frowns more deeply, “Sixteen or seventeen,” he repeats.

“Why would he react that way?” she prompts, “he froze, he was afraid…it was just a boy.”

Cas leans over his clasped hands, “He wasn’t just a boy.”

It’s Emma’s turn to frown, “Then what was he?”

“Who,” Cas corrects, “It’s who he was.”

Dean comes back in just at that moment, and the smile melts off his face at the sight of the two of them.

“What’d I miss?” he tries.

Emma rolls her eyes and steels her nerve, “Who was he, the boy at the store?”

Dean staggers backwards, like she’s slapped him. She half expects him to bristle, to rise to the challenge, but instead he slumps into his chair, defeated, he rubs hat his eyes. Emma feels her own heart beat quicken. She doesn’t like this. Doesn’t like the sorrow she can feel coming off of Dean in waves.

“He’s—,” Dean’s voice breaks and he has to clear his throat; Cas lays a hand on his forearm and Dean holds onto it like a lifeline, “he was my son.”

Everything goes quiet for a moment. Emma feels herself go hot and then cold, her eyes glow, the skin around them burns crimson, and her claws and fangs descend. She usually has better control. She usually has a better grip on herself.

“Your son.”

“Yeah.”

“I have a…brother,” the word tastes strange in her mouth. 

Dean looks stricken, “I…I don’t…It’s complicated.”

Cas intervenes; he reaches his hand palm up to Emma and she takes it, grasps it tightly. He tells her about Lisa and Ben. Tells her all he knows of Ben’s begetting and his childhood, so different from her own. He tells her about Sam’s time in hell and Dean’s time in suburbia, and his own deal with Crowley, the one that ruined so many lives. By the end of his story, Cas and Dean are both staring at the table in remorse, expressions rife with pain and grief, and Emma has taken Dean’s spare hand in her own, squeezing his fingers as firmly as she can without breaking his skin. 

“I’m sorry,” she says and she means it. Something inside of her aches for Dean; she has to swallow down a keening noise. He’s rough around the edges, she knows, and he makes mistakes, but he tries. He always tries. She’s living proof of that, and he’s suffering.

“He’s better off,” Dean mutters gruffly, squeezing her fingers back, “safer.” 

She hears the apology that Dean doesn’t say, an apology for his presence in her own life. 

She looks at Cas, she looks at Dean, “Well, we’re not.”

*

Emma “runs into” Ben a few weeks later. It isn’t very hard to find him, but she wasn’t sure at first that she wanted to. What would she say to this boy with whom she shared blood? This boy whose life was so different from her own? Would her presence put him in danger? 

She runs into him at the park. Literally. Ben goes running every morning like Sam does. Emma usually runs at night, under the cover of darkness, dressed in black (Dean calls her Batgirl whenever she heads out), but today she makes and exception. She dons a hot pink hoodie, and she laps Ben once, then matches his pace for the next few miles. They finish at the same time, stretching out. Ben is breathing heavily; Emma pretends to be similarly winded for the sake of appearances. 

“They give you super soldier serum or something?” Ben asks by way of introduction. 

Emma smiles, “Just natural talent, but my dad says that I could hold my own in a race with Captain America.”

Ben laughs, “Happy to be Sam Wilson in this scenario,” he holds out a hand, “Ben.”

Emma takes it, “Emma.” 

They both have Dean’s hands; Ben’s are bigger than hers, but their fingers are the same shape, their nails, the contours of their palms are perfect mirrors of one another. 

“Nice to meet you, Emma. I was gonna go grab a smoothie, you wanna come?”

“Sure.” 

They talk about this and that. She had half expected him to be like the other boys her age, boastful, foolish, underestimating her strength and intelligence, but he proves her wrong. He listens attentively when she speaks, never talks down to her, never interrupts. She thinks it might be because of his mother, Ben mentions her several times, always with admiration and clear affection in his voice. It makes something twist inside of her: she is motherless, but then, she thinks looking her brother up and down, he is fatherless. Perhaps they are not so different. 

Ben orders a chocolate smoothie, Emma gets one with berries, and they sit at the table, chatting about their shared love of Marvel. Ben is technically more than a decade older than she is, but thanks to her Amazon genetics, they’re in the same grade. They both enjoy math and science. Emma likes history, but Ben hates it. They eventually reach the subject of how they grew up. Emma knows that this part of the conversation is mostly fabricated, Ben’s past has been influenced by angel mojo and hers was invented by the combined efforts of her, Dean, and Sam’s imaginations. Ben tells her about growing up with his mother, moving several times, what it was like to live in Australia. It’s clear that he’s happy, that his relationship with his mother is a good one. He listens sympathetically when she talks about her “childhood” and doesn’t bat an eye when she mentions that she has two fathers.

She and Ben have the same smile: Grandmother Mary’s smile, Dean’s smile. It’s strange to see it on someone else’s face. He has Sam’s dimples. There is no hint of Dean in Ben’s eyes, like there is in hers, but the freckles that he inherited from their father stand out prominently over his nose and cheekbones. She doesn’t think that Ben sees their resemblance for what it is, but she catches him gazing at her thoughtfully, like he’s struggling to solve a complex math problem or a riddle.

He talks more freely than she does, shares more readily, he’s lighter, more playful. She envies him that, but can’t imagine conducting herself through the world that way. He’s happy, she thinks relieved, he’s okay. She hadn’t realized until that moment that this meeting was not just about investigating the stranger who shares her blood; it was about making sure that he was all right and protecting him if necessary. 

Emma leaves Ben with a smile, a wish for good luck, a phone number should he need anything, and a hug. He seems a bit befuddled by her behavior, still trying to figure her out. That, at least, they share. 

*

Cas works late that night, so it’s just Dean and Emma, a box of extra meat lovers pizza, and an Indiana Jones marathon. They’re set up on the floor in the living room with pillows and blankets. She feels warm and safe. She wonders if Dean and Ben ever did this together. If they did, Ben has no memory of it. At her side, Dean laughs at something silly, and she feels sudden sadness for Ben.

“Dean,” she says, her voice clear and sharp.

“What’s up, kiddo?” he asks, mouth full of pizza and a smile in his eyes.

“You’re a good dad,” she tells him. Her eyes burn, though she knows they aren’t glowing.

Dean’s face flushes bright red, his eyes open wide, and he freezes, stuck starring at her.

“I—uh,” he clears his throat, “well, you’re a damn good kid.”

He pulls her in against his chest, and she lets him, goes willing into his embrace, presses her face against his warm flannel chest, his heart beat is steady and calming. She curls up close to him, as if she were the small child she never got to be.

“Don’t ever make me forget you, okay?”

Dean arms tighten around her, she feels him press a kiss against the top of her head, before he presses his cheek to her hair, “Never, Em, I promise.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” she mumbles.

“I’m right here,” he says, rubbing a circle against her back as the burning in her eyes worsens, “I’m right here.”


End file.
